Solstices and Equinox: Year 1
by XxRawrSmoresxX
Summary: Four times a year I get to see my dad; when the leaves are painted, when they have fallen, when they are growing, and when they have grown. We've been doing this for the past five years now without my mum finding out. Each goodbye is always difficult; but we always walk away knowing we will always love one another. My name is Ian Stuart Tyler-McCrimmon and these are my stories.
1. Autumnal Equinox 2025

**Hello to everyone who decided to give this story a shot and to my followers who are currently reading my other works, I promise to get back to them soon! I've hit a partial writing block. :L SO! I wrote this story on a whim and I think most people who are into Rose/TenToo will like where this starts off, BUT be warned early on: it's not JUST Rose/TenToo...Even though, most people who like stories involving their potential children will like this. This individual story will have four chapters that I will post once a week, every Thursday. It is only 'Book 1' of the series which will total out to be about six in total, with four chapters each. (Any mistakes are mine and I apologize if anybody finds any.) **

**I hope you all enjoy! AND If you like it please follow or favorite and leave a review in the comments! **

**If there are any questions you have at the end of the chapter, feel free to PM me or leave it in your comment.**

**Enjoy! :D**

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Autumnal Equinox

22 September, 2025

Gravel crunches underneath my suede loafers as I make my way to our routine bench. Keeping my gaze downcast, I walk the familiar trail to the polished granite bench and gently ease myself down. Suddenly my worn grey driver's hat doesn't feel adjusted properly and my worn tan jacket sits awkwardly on my lanky frame. It seem like the hood is determined to bunch up in an odd position against my back.

The hat comes off quickly. It sits in my hands for a moment, well I say sits but it actually was being continuously wrung by my nervous fingers. They became fed up with the hat and instead moving off to rub the back of my head.

I had grown out my hair since the last time I saw him. Honey chestnut fringe now hangs rebelliously over my forehead. Mum had tried to get me to give it a trim, but I quickly refused. She said I looked almost like his spitting image. Almost.

Several golden leaves roll past me, playfully chasing the cool wind. Warm sunshine flittered down through the towering oak nearby. Dappled with sunshine, I found myself growing more relaxed, my anxiety dissipating with each passing moment as the warmth seeped into my skin. I used to love doing this with the both of them, mum and dad, when I was just a kid; I would sit on the bench between them, listening to their quiet murmurs and laughs while mum smoothed down my rebellious hair.

Well, that was when we were all together.

I sniff, taking a look around at my surroundings. There's the couple who stop by almost every day at this time, a little girl with her father are slowly moving along, her eyes following the dancing leaves, and that little old woman who comes by every now and again. She's watching me with a slight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her dark skin carries some wrinkles especially at the corner of her eyes. I watch her for a moment; now I see her hair is hidden beneath a knit cap. She gives me an almost imperceptible nod. I break the gaze.

With a quick glance at my watch I take note of the time: 3:49.

The cool granite bench starts to warm up with the dappling sunshine. Once again my fingers itch to be busy with something. My head tilts back to look at the nice autumn sky; perfect puffy white clouds floating along a gorgeous clear blue sky. Leaves make just the right rustling sound as I close my eyes.

22 of September 2025, the autumnal equinox. A date I have had memorized for the past five years, actually both equinoxes and solstices as well. We had made a pact all those years ago that we would meet and catch up four times a year on those days in this exact spot. I start to go over the first time we did this, well, at least when I ran into him, when I'm ripped from my reminiscent moment.

"Got your head in the clouds there?"

"Nah, just floatin' among the stars," I quip back with a cheeky grin.

Standing up from my bench, I give him a huge hug, which he returns enthusiastically. My cheeks hurt from the smile on my face, but that doesn't matter. I always grin like a fool when I see him. I pull out of the hug, a huge smile plastered on his face. The megawatt 'light up the room' smile mum always called it. A smile I miss seeing on a regular basis. It shows off where I inherited my two dimples from.

I look up and nod at his sleek slightly frosted brown hair, "Your hair's getting' a bit grey there Dad," I tease, tongue pressing lightly at the back of my teeth.

The loose hug he had me in moves down to just an arm slung warmly around my shoulder. Shock and slight worry is plastered onto his face as a hand moves frantically in the fringe to try and see it himself, nearly going cross-eyed in the process.

"You're lying," he cries out indignantly, "Oh bugger,"

I laugh and this seems to cheer him up. Moving his attention from his hair, he turns to me.

"Well, on the subject of hair look at yours!" a hint of pride tinges his voice, "Just look at it, it's nearly as impressive as mine."

With a teasing wink he pats my shoulder before moving to the bench. I notice he has on a pair of dark jeans and grey and burgundy jumper; his and mum's favorite jumper. Of course as always, he completes the outfit with some sort of trainers; todays are white, well, they used to be. His hair is in perfect disarray as always (even with the gray), well mum calls his perfect, not mine though, and he finally grew out his stubble. I remember as a kid I would love to run my fingers over it just to feel the light ticklish scratching. Dad and Mum would just laugh heartily every time at my insistent giggling. Nothing has claimed its spot as my favorite memory yet.

My feet move towards the bench before I have a seat on his immediate left. Never on his right. He crosses his feet at the ankles and leans back with his elbows resting on the back of the now warm granite bench.

"So Ian, how's your mum?" he asks without preamble.

I take a deep sigh and lean against the back of the bench, "She's….doing better. Still hasn't tried to date anyone, but she has moved on…enough. Sometimes she still has her moments. Just because it's been a few years doesn't mean she's completely over it. She tries to never do it around us; always trying to protect others right?" I give him a tight sad smile which he returns sympathetically, "It doesn't happen as often now; she's been too busy with John and Donna. Mischievous little devils they are, but we love 'em all the same. It's hard to imagine they're almost five…." I trail off, "And you? How have you been?"

He tilts back his head as he scratches an itch at the base of his throat, "Oh you know," he drawls out followed by his iconic sniff, "going here and there, seeing everything there is to see, mingl-"

"They miss you," I blurt out softly.

He raises an eyebrow at me, but nonetheless gets a somber expression, "but they've never even met me."

I know he's holding back his full emotions. Never one to show too much, him.

"It doesn't matter; you're their father. Mum hasn't completely wiped your existence away," It comes out with a bit more of a snap than I would have liked.

I take a deep breath. My eyes avoid the man sitting next to me as I watch all the other people milling about.

"They grew up knowing who you are; mum would never let that be forgotten. Pictures of us were, still, are plastered all over the house," I drift off for a small moment. Suddenly I turn to face him; his eyes shine with tons of emotions: sadness, pride, and happiness, along with the rest of his ancient burdens. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he gives me an encouraging nod.

"I would never forget either. When mum needs help getting them to sleep I tell them the stories you told me," I blush a bit bashfully saying this, "Me and mum make it a team effort. She retells New Earth's cat nuns and I retell Queen Victoria becoming a werewolf. Personally, I just like to remember all those wild things you and mum saw before I was born,"

Gaze downcast, I fiddle my thumbs. In the past three years I've been seeing him, I never once admitted to this.

He gently rubs my shoulder, "There's nothing wrong with that," he says calmly, "what's the point of being grown up if you can't have some fun sometimes?"

I laugh at this, a smirk forming on my lips. This is his motto and he sure does practice what he preaches. My dad is the most childish acting grown up I have ever met, and I'm 16.

"See that's what I like to see," he grins, "You know I don't like to see you all mopey or pouty, maybe sulky….nah that doesn't sound right, well it is right just doesn't ring a bell,"

"Dad?" I give him an admonishinglook.

"Grouchy? No, that wouldn't do either,"

And on he goes, staring off into space with a slight furrow in between his eyebrows, "Dad,"

"Frowny…. Oooooooh I like that! Frowny. Froowwnnyy. Frowny faces. Ha! Perfect,"

"Dad!" I exclaim.

He gives me a confused look, "What? What was I doing wrong?"

Tongue pressed behind my front teeth to stop from doubling over in laughter I quirk an eyebrow at him,

"You went off on a tangent,"

It takes him a moment to absorb my statement and compare it with his previous actions.

"I suppose I did….Anyway, moving on to a different matter, how's the secondary going?"

I clam up in an instant. He instantly picks up on my change in demeanor. Slowly turning around so he's facing me on the bench; he rests his right leg on his lap and crosses his arms over his chest. I cringe slightly for what's about to come; I remember this look very well from when I would get in trouble in nursery school. Oh he's started tapping his finger on his bicep,

"Ian, what did you do?" he says it with such ice calm, it makes me want to fall even more into my shoulders.

I start fiddling with my hands nervously; my right ring fingernail seems extremely shiny…

"Ian. . ?"

Oh he's starting to punctuate every word now. I suck in my left cheek, making the dimple stand out properly. I instantly know I shouldn't have done it. Ever since I was little it has been my tell for whenever I've done something bad or wrong….and he knows it.

"Didn't want to do this," he sighs and rubs a hand from his cheek down to his chin, "Ian Stuart Tyler-McCrimmon, what in Rassilon's name did you do in school?"

" 'sexambecauseIfinishedearlyandshewouldn'tletmego." I breath out in a rush.

"Woah ho ho! You might want to slow down just a tad," he says with a hearty laugh.

Hanging my head in embarrassment, I say it again,

"I re-wired my laptop during the exam in Mrs. Jensen's class because I was finished with it within the first twenty minutes and she didn't believe me and made me sit there like an idiot for the rest of the time. I got bored so I carefully pulled apart the computer, gutted it, and then put it back together so it would function much more easily as well as faster."

I'm waiting for his disappointed reaction like the one I got from mum, but he just stares at me flabbergasted before breaking out into maniacal laughter.

With a careful stare I make sure he hasn't gone off his rocker.

"Oh you are indeed my boy!" he exclaims with breathless laughter, his eyes shining with amusement and joy.

Now it's my turn to be stunned, "but...But...What!?" I stammer.

"I don't know if your mother ever told you this, but I used to do that all the time,"

"Do what?" I ask, still in shock from his reaction.

"Pull things apart to make them more efficient," he grins, "used to do it all the time. That's how the toaster ended up only lightly toasting the bread."

"You're the one who did that to the toaster?!" I gape at him before bursting into a fit of giggles, "was that how you liked your toast, yeah?"

He looks at me with mock surprise, "How'd you know! I hate extremely crunchy bread, but also when it's too soft. SO, I rewired a few bits in the toaster to make it toast bread to be slightly crunchy but at the same time warm enough to melt butter." He smiles at me.

"So how did Mrs. Jensen react when she found out?"

"Oh she had a right fit in the middle of the room, she was yellin' 'how on Earth did you manage to do that to the computer', 'this is vandalism young man', 'just wait until I call Headmaster Robinson down here!' etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

He snorts.

"What?" I look over at him curiously.

Raising an eyebrow, he gives me a smirk, "She really sound like that Ian?"

"Um," I stammer, heat creeping up my ears, "No?"

"Uh-huh," he teases.

The sun has started to shift further down. I look down at my watch: 4:51PM.

"How much time we have left Ian?" he questions quietly.

"About 24 minutes." I respond.

I slump a bit on the bench, while my dad glances out past the oak tree to some scarlet and orange leaves twirling in the breeze. I set the alarm on my watch to ring in about 15 minutes to give us enough warning. He seems so comfortable and at ease; no worries line his eyes like they used to.

"How's your Gran been?"

I laugh lightly, "She's been brooding because Tony's leavin' soon to Uni. Tony's over the moon and so is Grampa Pete, but Gran is all frowny-" he snorts, "about him leavin'," I finish.

"That's right he is leaving soon, isn't he? What's he going to the University for?" he asks keenly.

"Wants to become a lawyer, so he's said. He's talking about helping Grampa Pete with Torchwood when he retires."

Another moment of silence lapses,

"Dad?"

"Hmmm?" he glances over at me, full attention directed at whatever I'm about to say.

"When did you know you loved mum?" I'm hoping to lead this somewhere, but want to know his response first.

He doesn't even take a moment to think,

"When I grabbed her hand in that little shop, her surrounded by window shop dummies, and I whispered to her run. We never stopped running together…until, well, you know."

"Why did you want to know?" he asks me curiously.

Tugging nervously on my earlobe, I glance sheepishly up at his face. His freckles give him a boyish look, but the wrinkles around his eyes betray his true age.

"There's a…girl. I like her a lot, and whenever I'm around her she makes my knees go weak,"

Dad grins at this. He shakes his head and chuckles; he tilts his head back to gaze at the lazily rolling white clouds.

"Oh Ian. What's her name?"

"Kaitlyn, she's here as an exchange student from the States."

"Oooh, all the way out there?" he teases, "What part?"

"The east coast; says she's from Vermont." I say with a sigh.

"Sounds like you've got a crush," he sing-songs.

I punch his arm gently, "Just give me some advice," I take a moment to think, "Please?"

"Well," he drawls, "Is any other bloke showing interest?"

"Well, yeah."

"Are you showing interest?" he smirks at me.

"Yes. Well, no! Not in that way, I'm more of a….mate right now?" I'm stumbling over my words.

"Then just be there for her the best yo-" My watch alarm cuts him off.

This is the moment I always dread, having to get up and walk away from him for another three months.

We stand up slowly in unison, the nice autumnal sun finally starting to dip lower and lower in the sky, just beginning to dust the sky with a pale pink. He turns to me with a sad smile on his face; he hates this part as much as I do.

"You'll know what to do Ian, and if not it'll come to you in time." He says quietly.

I just nod, knowing the tears want to rise up to the surface right now.

"Why can't you just come back?" I ask shakily, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

He takes my face gently in his hands, "You know why Ian."

"What about Mum?" my voice chokes a bit as I wrap my fingers around his wrists. I'm shaking.

He shakes his head somberly, "You mustn't ever tell her Ian. Maybe someday in the future, but not now. She can't know yet."

I only nod my head in his hands. I'm trying so hard not to cry; I don't want to be like a 4 year old child on their first day of nursery school, tears in their eyes as their parents walk away.

He pats my cheek as a tear rolls down, "it's fine Ian; never let your emotions stay wrapped up within you. It's okay Ian." His voice is smooth and comforting.

I just nod once more tears streaming down my cheeks. My head finds its way to his shoulder just like I used to do when I was younger, taking in his scent of spice and well-worn books. Even now it feels like a security blanket. He wraps his arms around me in a comforting hug, tucking my head under his chin in a slightly protective gesture. His hand is smoothing down the back of my hair as I weep silently into his shoulder. After a moment I know I have to pull away from the familiar warmth I've missed for the past couple of years. I never knew how much I loved his hugs until he wasn't with me and mum anymore.

I pull back and he rubs away the tears in my eyes in his comforting fatherly manner.

"Feel better?" he asks.

"Yeah, 'm feeling a little better," my voice sounds weak and odd to my own ears.

His face lights up with a warm smile, "Good,"

Taking my hat from my hands, he acts like he's about to place it on, but instead just rubs out my rebellious hair making it even more rebellious.

I let out a watery laugh before snatching my hat back, "Thanks."

"You're very welcome," his eyes are laughing even as he tries to keep his serious demeanor.

He gives me a slight head nod, "Well, see you next time. If anything comes up that you want to talk about before than just make a note of it."

"Okay, bye Dad," I say with a small smile.

Giving a quick wave of his hand he starts to walk away, "Bye Ian,"

Just before I start walking down the path he turns around and walking backwards he calls out,  
"Oh and Ian! If this Kaitlyn truly does make you feel that way, make a promise to yourself that you will always be there for her."

I smile at his tidbit of advice and with a wink he turns around before continuing down the gravel path once more.

Walking back down the path, gravel crunching under my shoes once more, I notice the colors painted among the trees and smile to myself.

They all seem just that bit more vibrant.

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**SO! I hope you all enjoyed and please leave a comment or review and let me know how you liked the first chapter!**


	2. Winter Solstice 2025

**Thank you all so much for your reviews! Here's the next update and I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed!**

**Please review if you like it and Enjoy!**

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Winter Solstice

(21 January, 2025)

My breath billowed in small clouds as I hustled down the sidewalk, anxious to get to our meeting spot. I was already running late.

Mum had needed me to run down to the shop to get her some tea real quick just as I was heading out. Of course I said yes not expecting the errand to take me that long. Little did I know that everyone would be out bloody shopping for groceries at that exact moment when all I needed to do was buy one box of flippin' tea. Once I got that done, I had sprinted back to our flat, nearly slipping on a patch of ice, but placed the box on the counter and gave mum her change. She was a bit suspicious as to why I was so anxious to leave.

"What's your rush Ian?" She asked me casually while giving me her suspicious mother look.

I tried to calm myself a bit, "The suns gonna be setting earlier today and I just wanted to go out before it gets too dark."

That sounded like a valid excuse right?

"You sure about that?" her tone carried just a hint of accusation, "I don't want any bloody policemen knocking at my door later with you in their custody. Understood?"

"Yes mum," I said appeasingly.

She gave me a peck on the cheek as well as a smile and thank you for the tea. She hasn't asked me a single time after all these years why I go out at nearly the same time on the same day every three months. Maybe it's a mother's intuition thing; I shrugged it off.

Once outside the door to the flat, I was off like a shot; racing to the staircase while checking my phone.

It was 1:16 PM.

"Oh bullocks," I grumbled under my breath as I shouldered open the slate grey door leading out of the building.

That's why I now look like a complete fool, rushing through last night's slushy snowfall in order to not be devastatingly late.

Last time I'd checked, the temperature had just dropped a bit below 0° C and snow seemed to be predicted for later on. Bundled up in my worn tan jacket, long black trench coat, deep blue scarf, black leather gloves, and deep blue ear warmers, the chilly wind still managed to make me shiver.

Turning past the two neatly squared hedges, I climbed up the gravel path that leads to the bench. Almost in a sprint, I raced over to it.

There he is: sitting nonchalantly with one leg resting in his lap and leaning against the back of the bench with restless fingers tapping out a senseless rhythm. His black trousers with the slate grey overcoat match the season, they always do. A navy blue cap sits snugly on his head, successfully hiding away the most of his frosted chestnut strands That seems to be a color he fancies, blue, but only in that exact shade. Once again that favorited blue pokes out around his neck; one of his favorite scarves, like the one I'm wearing, but made out of fleece instead of a cable knit. Of course the whole ensemble wouldn't be him without a pair of trainers; todays are midnight blue with almost no scuffs on the toes. He swivels his face my way, that enthusiastic smile lighting up his pinking cheeks.

"There you are!" he exclaims happily, a puff vapor lingering in front of his nose.

I quickly shuffle the last few steps towards him, "Yeah, mum had me run an errand just as I was about to leave."

"It doesn't matter, you're here now," he pulls me into a quick tight hug.

Leaning back he looks me over, "So how've you been Ian?" He asks, keeping his hands on my biceps. He's giving me the 'don't you lie' look.

I laugh, "Good. I've been a lot better actually."

"Well that's good,"

We both smile and sit back down on the bench. My dark jeans start growing cold from the slight slush on the seat. Up above the heavy overcast clouds seem to confirm that there's more snow to come. No dappling sunlight to warm up our granite bench.

Another chilly gust of wind seems to agree with the heavy overcast.

"Blimey it's cold out," he says, adjusting his hat and scarf slightly.

"They're predicting it to be a pretty cold one this time, much more than last years," I tell him.

He only nods before rubbing his hands together, then his nose.

I glance over at the now barren oak, all grey and lifeless, standing solemnly against the heavy, blanketed sky, but nonetheless strong and stable.

"You should've seen John and Donna at Halloween;" I tell him a bit wistfully, remembering how the streets were filled with color not too long ago, "John was convinced he was going to dress up as an old navy captain,"

He smiles at this and I know why, "and Donna: that was a WHOLE other issue."

He snorts at this, "What did she want to be?"

"She wanted to combine her favorite princess, Ariel, with Hermione Grainger from Harry Potter and Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games." I sighed, massaging the bridge of my nose.

"Oh really? How did that turn out?" His face was alight with curiosity and amusement.

"First me and mum tried to get her to pick one, then two, and then we were stuck trying to brainstorm a get up for all three of 'em," I shook my head, chuckling quietly.

He raised a questioning eyebrow, expecting me to describe it.

"It's kind of hard to explain what the end result was," I slid my mobile out of my pocket, "but I snapped a photo of it."

"I can't wait to see this," he mumbled gleefully.

I shook my head as I looked for the picture I took of John and Donna just as we were about to leave. Their small faces alight with excitement. Sidling a bit closer to him, I handed him my mobile with the picture of them pulled up.

"Oh wow," he said with hushed awe, then it hit me.

This is the first time I've showed him a picture of them. In four years.

He pulled out his thin silver framed glasses and perched them on his nose before examining it closely.

In the photo, John's wearing a faded midnight blue navy coat, complete with the brass buttons and shoulder plates. He wore wool black trousers and a navy blue oxford, complete with black boots. His grin reached from ear to ear, clearly showing his missing front tooth. Short copper hair was slightly poofed forward thanks to mum's careful manipulating, and bright hazel eyes were alight with excitement, the pale green hue showing through just a bit more dominantly. John had his arm slung around Donna's shoulders in a friendly pose.

Oh Donna.

I snickered inwardly as I looked at the picture with him once more.

She had a proud smirk on her face, her pink Cupid's bow lips drawn tightly up and her hand was sassily placed on her hip. For every Halloween costume I've ever seen, hers had to have taken the cake in eccentricity and creativity.

Mum had braided her long multi-toned light brown hair with some red extensions, 'For Arial's red hair,' she had said. Next, she had on combat boots; it took me ages to find those bloody things in her size. She had tights and a plain white t-shirt on underneath the robe mum made her; the robe had all the flow of the mass produced ones from the shops, but this one was hand-made and customized. The hood held a teal and green fabric pairing, for Ariel's sea, while the crest on the front was of the lion, for Gryffindor. Next came the 'utility belt' around her waist; carrying a few different wands and seashells of all shapes and sizes. My favorite part however, was the bow slung over her small shoulders. Even though it took me hours of diligent work to make, seeing her face light up when I handed it to her was incredible; well worth the hard work. Her eyes glowed with determination, the baby blue and brown within them mixing and blending perfectly together.

She had Dad's nose and freckles. Mum had said his eyes as well, but both of them. I had never understood what she had meant.

I watched quietly as he ran a finger along both of their faces.

"First time I see my own twins," he says with a bitter laugh.

"And not the last," my voice seems soft, as if we've swapped the role of father and son.

"How are they? Now, I mean. It is nearly Christmas after all." He looks up at me as he hands me back my mobile.

His solemn eyes betray so much sadness within their chocolate brown depths.

"Excited as you get for banana cake with edible ball bearings," I laugh, "Mum and I can barely keep them out of the gifts underneath the tree. We've had to resort to stashing them in the oddest places," I twiddle my thumbs and smile, "There's a few stashed in the piano, several underneath false plants all over the house, and two stashed in mum's room, in her memories box…" I trail off.

Dad titters quietly, "So she still has that box, huh? Your mum always did seem to have a need to keep random mementos."

"Yeah," I chuckle back, "I've never seen what she keeps in it though."

A somber look passes quickly over his face before he literally shakes it off.

"So how was Thanksgiving then? Did your Gran cook? Oh god how much I hate her cooking," he drawls teasingly," but she makes a spot on tea."

His ancient chocolate eyes turn to look at me, waiting for an extravagant answer. Naturally, I don't want to disappoint, but for the past couple of years, it hasn't been the same.

"She set your spot at the table like she always does, Gran even put a red paper crown on your seat, said it was for the good old days."

"John asked if you were coming." He turned to look at me expectantly, breath billowing from the cold.

"What did you tell him? Or at least your Mum," His voice was so low, barely notable if you weren't in a conversation with him.

"She didn't answer, like she does every year. Left me to come up with a tangent about the history of Turkey and Pilgrims," I train my gaze on the bark of the oak once more.

"Did you tell correct information?" I can tell he has an eyebrow raised, exhibiting false seriousness.

My silence speaks for my apathy of caring about facts.

"Because if you didn't they're going to live the rest of their lives believing some inaccurate...tale..."

He trails off a bit before, taking a second to think before suddenly coming to attention. I glance over at him curiously, wondering why he suddenly stiffened up.

The sly smirk on his face has me a little bit disconcerted. A finger rises to point at me, in my defense, a bit accusingly.

"What?" I ask thoroughly perplexed.

He keeps pointing, but adds a slightly maniac sounding laugh.

"What!" He's starting to worry me.

"Don't think I've forgotten," he smirks, seeming very proud of …well whatever it is he knows.

"Dad, don't be daft," I scoff lightly, creasing my eyebrows.

"How's the situation with Kaitlyn?"

Oh….OH. Bollocks he remembered. My cheeks pinken even more, if that's even possible. The nippy wind doesn't help to rid the burning flushing my cheeks.

"Um, it's good…"

He stares at me, laughter dancing in his eyes as he keeps the smug smirk on his face.

"Just good Ian?" He crosses his arms.

"Yup," I quickly respond, popping the last syllable slightly.

The judgment brow rises, "Really?"

His voice seems to be straining to keep out the mirth.

I let out a resigned sigh, "I still haven't tried to go past just being mates with her."

Slumping down the bench back dejectedly, I'm one hundred percent sure I look like a petulant child.

"Sure we hang out, and we're the best of mates, but it seems like she doesn't want anything more at the moment," I mindlessly pick at a loose thread on my coat, "Mum's met her; she said she approves when the time comes…" I pause, "If the time comes."

He shuffles a bit before slinging his arms on the back of the bench, "Has she gotten her own bloke yet?"

Has the oak tree always had those notches in the base of its trunk?

"Well, Ian?"

"Yeah, but he's a right prick," I hiss, rage starting to boil deep inside me.

"Oi! Language young man!" he chides, giving me a quick disapproving glare.

"Sorry," it comes out as a reluctant apology.

"It's just that, his name's Nick. He's one of the rugby blokes at school and is just such a bloody jerk!"

He gives me another stern look but now I'm off on a tangent and could care less,

"Every day he puts her down; mocking her, teasing her fashion, or just getting angry with her for no damned reason! It gets her very upset, but then he's all like 'oh babe, you know I didn't mean that.' And the prick,"

I hear his admonishing 'OI!'

"Is magically forgiven! She never completely forgives him, especially after the one time he hit her for confronting him about shooting up about two months ago. Oh Dad, I can still remember that day so vividly; I've never seen Kaitlyn so upset. She came to the flat and was soaking wet from sprinting away from his car in the rain. I opened the door and there she was; her clothes soaked to the bone, stuck against her strong frame; sleek dark auburn hair was plastered to her scalp. Oh but Dad, the worst part was the angry red mark covering most of her left cheek."

I take a shaky breath and met my Dad's eyes. Understanding sat within the turmoil of emotions he seemed to be sorting through.

"She looked so broken. I barely had time to register she was there before she fell into my arms. It took me a half hour to convince her to let me grab a towel for her and change of clothes before she actually let me. Mum had taken John and Donna to visit Gran's for the day so she couldn't help me out with Kaitlyn. After she came back from dressing out of her wet clothes, she just sat down on the couch staring off blankly into space. It looked like she was staring out of our balcony doors, but her normally bright steel grey eyes were unfocused and blank. I had given her one of my jumpers along with one of mum's sweatpants and t-shirts hoping she'd be more comfortable in that then in damp jeans and blouse,"

I glanced down at my hands, knuckles blanched with effort from the memory I was retelling my Dad,

"It took me another twenty minutes of sitting in front of her, holding her hand before she came out of her spell. When she did come back to me though, her steel grey eyes had begun to fill with tears once more.

_"He hit me Ian,"_

She had told me, her voice soft, broken, and lifeless. I didn't know what else to do Dad, so I just held her; trying to comfort her as best I could while she sobbed into my shoulder."

I took another deep breath, tilting my head to look up at the slow low lying blanket moving above.

"Never before in my life had I felt so angry and useless at the same time. There she had been: crying inconsolably with nothing much I could do to comfort her but hold her and she had a vicious red welt forming underneath her left eye and most of her cheek that I couldn't do much to get rid of completely,"

"I know the feeling," my Dad muttered darkly.

"Two and a half hours passed before I finally got her to move to the kitchen. I made her a good cuppa, just like Mum showed me how to make, before I started checking her over for any other injuries."

"Her cheekbone and eye socket wasn't damaged in any other way. Normally Katie would banter with me, saying how us Brits use tea as a comfort mechanism and that we think that it can solve any kind of problem, and how she was perfectly fine, but she just sat there lifeless, Dad. All aspects of the Katie I knew were gone for the moment; she was an apathetic version of herself. What Mum had taught me about traumatic experiences in patients kicked in and I carefully explained to Katie that I was going to try and find some medicine for her cheek and that I would be back soon. While I was going through our medicine cabinet looking for some of Mum's special topical cream, she said that it had been Nick. Don't get me wrong it was very quiet and subtle, but I rose up so fast and forgot that I was in the cabinet; gave myself quite a knock on the back of the head."

I chuckled mirthlessly, "The only thing I could see Dad, was red. I was beyond pissed with rage. Only one thought was racing through my mind: I wanted to strangle the wanker with my own two hands."

I knew my Dad was sitting next to me, worry casting over his normally impish features; a dark look shadowing his eyes.

"I shouldn't have said anything, I knew it would make it worse, but I did. I told her she should rethink her relationship with him, report him to authorities, tell Mum so we could keep her safe; but she flat out refused. She said that Nick needed her, that she needed to make him better. That's when Katie broke down again; I remember the rage dying down inside me a bit. I found the topical cream and put it on her cheek. She looked up at me and Dad; she had so much trust in her eyes, so much trust in ME. I apologized for making her cry again and she gave me a small smile."

"We talked a bit about what happened before she told me that was the most she felt comfortable talking about for the moment. She fell asleep on the couch after she finished her tea; I called Mum told her that she was here because something pretty bad had happened and assured her that nothing else had gone on. Katie stayed for dinner after Mum came home, she had left John and Donna with Gran because of the circumstance, then stayed the night after Mum called her exchange family, assuring them that she was safe and sound. After she left the next day, we're now closer than ever; but she has never mentioned it again…"

Once I was done, I realized that my breathing had grown heavy, increasing the size and frequency of the puffs of cold air settling in front of my lips. My fingers were clenched into tight fists; it took me a few seconds to restart the circulation in my hands. My Dad hadn't said anything since I'd finished, I turned to look at him, his lanky form tensed up on the bench. He had a fierce gaze trained on me; recognition, understanding, and sympathy pouring through.

After several moments of his silent analyzing and my quiet recovery, he spoke up, "You did the right thing Ian, and I am so, SO proud of you," his voice was filled with raw pride.

He gave my shoulder several strong pats.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"I know it's not always the easiest thing to do," he said earnestly, "but it was the best thing to do. I know how it feels to have to deal with a situation like that; it's not the best feeling."

The wind died a little bit, but the deep chill still lingered in the air.

"My gut instinct tells me that this will always be true but nonetheless, keep Kaitlyn safe. Make sure she doesn't get into any tough situations, but if she does, be there to support her Ian. Did you make that promise to yourself? Sometimes the best solution to a difficult situation isn't judgment, but support."

I pulled more air into my lungs with a loud breath. He was right. Being judgmental never helps a person who is traumatized or confused; even I know that it only makes things worse.

My eyes focus on the far-away look plastered on his scruffy face. His stubble has now grown out into a well-kept beard; bits of his frosted chestnut brown hair sneaking out from underneath his navy cap. He seems a lot more distinguished, a bit older even.

"Mum's good to her." I break the silence, "We invite her over to dinner now and again. John and Donna love her."

He only nods but keeps his gaze looking towards the horizon.

"How've you been?" He turns his attention back to me, "What else have you seen so far?"

The dark stalemate he seemed to be in shatters as his eyes light up once more.

The corners of his lips turn up a smidgen, "I just got back from visiting Norway; wanted to take a trip down memory lane before the holidays,"

His face lights up in sudden recognition, "Oh! And I wanted to give you something," he starts rummaging through his coat pockets, patting here and there, "Give me a sec….aha! Here it is!"

Now with his cheeky smile and impish eyes flashing, he holds his hand still inside his jacket pocket.

"Hold out your hand,"

I snort at the childish game he wants to play, but deep inside I am thrilled that he's able to give me something this year. Nevertheless, I comply with his wish, holding out my hands and closing my eyes.

My ears sensed the rustling of wrapping paper as well as some parchment paper. The slight weight is placed into my waiting hands a few moments later.

"Merry Christmas Ian," he says softly.

I open my eyes to see a small box wrapped elegantly in metallic royal blue paper. For a moment it seems to have a circular pattern hidden underneath the shine, but it quickly vanishes. Awestruck, I smooth my gloved fingertips over and around the delicate silver bow.

"Wow," I breathe.

There's even a little place card with my name in full carefully printed in an imperial calligraphy.

"Thanks," my voice is quiet as I continue admiring the little box.

Dad looks beyond content; a small smile gracing his face. It takes me a moment to notice the envelope clasped in his hands.

"That for Mum?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, this is still a part of your gift."

I watch him dubiously, "There better not be anything else in there," I warn him playfully.

His laugh fills the cold air between us, warming me straight down to my heart.

"No Ian, it's just a letter that pairs up with it."

The pale parchment envelope is stuck out in my direction,

"You sure?" I'm still a bit dubious.

"Positive." He grins.

Crisp paper moves under my digits as I gently take the envelope.

"Tha-" My phrase is cut short as an alarm goes off on my mobile:

3:25 PM

Warning Bell

I can feel the smile fall slightly off my face as I realize exactly what that alarm means.

So does Dad. We both rise stiffly from our cold granite bench, shaking the chill out of our knees.

"Thank you," my voice is heavy with gratitude.

"You're welcome Ian," the slight crinkles around his eyes remind me of just how much older he looks than last time.

"Until next time yeah?" I ask.

"Oh you know it; and you know what Ian? I bet you're gonna have a great start to the New Year." His megawatt smile betrays the sadness in his glassy eyes.

"Alons-y," I joke back at him, tongue lightly pressed against my top teeth.

He laughs at this before moving in to give me a huge hug, "That's for John, Donna, and your Mum too. You'd better give them some of it!" He playfully scolds.

I stay in his warm hug for just a second longer, lingering just to avoid the inevitable. I desperately try to imprint his scent in my mind once more before he leaves again; the smell of spice and well-worn books.

"Bye Dad and Merry Christmas."

"And a Happy New Year. Bye Ian."

He gives me one last smile and pat on the shoulders before turning on heel and starting down the path.

I mimic him; but only in the other direction, tossing the small wrapped package gently in the air.

Just as I start down the gravel path, thick snow starts to flutter lightly down.

"It's already been a good year," I murmur to myself before pocketing the gifts he gave me and heading home to Mum, Donna, and John.


	3. Vernal Equinox 2026

**Hello everyone! I know it has been a LONG time since I last updated, but an issue came up that kept me away from a computer and in no shape to write for almost a month. I am now BACK however and am furiously going at it to get this book, well I call it a book, finished. I have tried to make this chapter less heavy than the other two have been but I want to call to attention that certain things mentioned in this chapter that seem a bit peculiar are because I decided to play with the whole 'Parallel Universe' thing SO if you are still curious about certain things feel free to mention it in the comments as well as PM me. If anything seems out of place within this chapter, it would be great if you could call it to my attention. I tried to make sure it keeps corresponding with information in the other two books but I may have slipped up somewhere. I may, once the last chapter to this story is published go back and touch up a few things, so if you've found something please let me know! Thanks to those of you who have continued to stick with this story I promise it is well worth the wait!**

**As always read and review it helps to inspire and keep me motivated!**

* * *

Vernal Equinox  
(20 March, 2026)

Warm, bright sunshine filtered through the newly formed buds of the oak tree, its beams catching the slight pollen floating about. Birds fly playfully around, chasing each other around the trees and through flowers; sweet light twittering filling the open space. Colors paint the neighboring bushes; hues varying from dusky pink to royal violet. Their early buds open themselves to the warm sunlight. Rich, teasing laughter that only a group of small children could produce, rings clear through the air. The official sound of Spring.  
I stroll casually up the same worn gravel path, taking note of the patches of grass that had begun to grow in the cracks and crevices of the path, small rebellious sprigs of green against the rough dark grey.  
He had been right; I did have a great start to the New Year. I smile slightly to myself as I recall the events after our last meeting:

* * *

_"Mum, I'm back," I called out loudly as I walked into our flat, a smile still on my face after having seen my Dad.  
_

_"Hey," she calls out, "I'm in- JOHN! Stop sloshing water out of the tub!"_

_I hear Donna giggling from the bathroom as Mum chides John, I can only imagine, for the fourth time. Smirking to myself, I set down my key on the clean cut obsidian marble counter near the entrance of kitchen. They resonate with a light clink after landing in the porcelain bowl we use for keys. Quickly ridding myself of my gloves, scarf, and hat, I start towards my room._

_"You wouldn't believe what's falling outside right now," I called out as I turned into the connecting hallway._

_I chuckled as I opened my ebony door and placed my long, now very wet and cold, black trench coat on the coat rack. Taking mind as to remove the gifts dad had just given me and place them in the secret compartment of my bed frame, I took a moment to shake out the last bit of excitment from seeing him. Kneeling down, I opened the piece of inconspicuous looking wood near the far post of the birch four-poster bed and tucked the small box, as well as the envelope, in the crevice that held other items that my Dad had given me in years past._

_"What's fall...DONNA STOP PULLIN JOHN'S HAIR!" Her stressed voiced rings throughout the small apartment._

_I laugh heartily and rise hastily back to my feet, tucking the small piece of wood back into place. Dusting off the front of my trousers and tossing my tan jacket onto my bed I move out into the hall, then towards the bathroom adjacent with Mum's door._

_A warm pale light from the bathroom casts its glow on the deep red wall of the hall. The door cracked open just slightly, I can hear John and Donna's little voices arguing with one another._

_"Mummy, Donna did it again!" John whined._

_"I did not!" Donna stated stubbornly._

_"Did too!"_

_"Did not!"_

_"TOO!"_

_"NOT!"_

_"IAN! GET IN HERE!" Mum very nearly shrieked, "NOW!"_

_I try to hide the smirk off of my face as I push open the bathroom door,_

_"You caterwauled?"_

_She glares at me over one of her soaked shoulders,  
"Oi! Stop bein' cheeky and come help me out."_

_Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun, a few strands falling down over her face. The worn, dark green shirt that sat loosely on her shoulders was a good two sizes too big for her, going down past mid-thigh, hiding the top several inches of her dark water logged jeans._

_Donna and John are having a blast though, their giggling and splashing in no way affected by Mum's growing annoyance. When they saw me, two pairs of shining eyes, hazel and baby blue swirled with brown, turned their attention on me with glee. Donna looked above Mums left shoulder while John popped his head out over her right arm._

_"Hullo Ian!"_

_Both of them raised a small hand and waved. I waved back, moving towards the growing puddles near the edge of the tub,  
"Hello," I kneeled down next to a very grateful looking Mum._

_"How has your day been?" she asked me as I rolled up my sleeves.  
"Just perfect."_

_"What's left to do?" I quietly asked her while John tittered on to me about going to the shop and seeing Santa and that he had asked him something about pink apples?_

_"John needs his growin' mess of hair washed as well as a scrub with the flannel. I was washing Donna up and had started to do her hair when the two of 'em just went squirrelly." She said lowly, trying not to be overheard._

_"Donna sweetie," her voice ladled with sweetness, "could you sit till so Mummy can wash your hair?"_

_Donna shifted herself in the tub so Mum could get enough access to wash her hair. The whole time she was glaring at John, who apparently seemed like he was getting away without having to wash his hair._

_I reached past John, grabbing the fruity Nuage shampoo he loves. "Alright John, shift. It's your turn now."_

_I poured a sufficient amount of the melon smelling goo into my hand as he moved enough for me to wash his hair. John and Donna were tittering away animatedly about what was going to happen for Christmas when Mum quietly broke our companionable silence._

_"I remember when me an' your dad use to do this with you,"_

_I gave her a sad, small smile, not changing my ministrations on John's hair;_

_"I still remember them. I loved those times,"_

_I was surprise by the hushed tone of my own voice. We both shared a poignant smile before continuing on with the twins' bath._

* * *

The next few days were frantic with holiday preparations, and then finally came the big day.

Me and Mum had been up at the crack of dawn: pulling the gifts out of our random nooks and crannies, placing presents under the tree, and eating the biscuits the twins had left out for Santa. Everyone was happy with their gifts, including me.

I fiddle with the chain of the pocket watch my Dad gave me as I sit down on our sun warmed granite bench. It hasn't left my side since the minute I unwrapped it. The smooth, worn, silver metal and intricate circular patterns soothe me, I still can't figure out why.

I spot the little girl who was here back in September, lazily picking dandelions and clovers from the side of the path before arranging them into a thoughtful bouquet. Her father strolls slowly behind her, hands behind his back, keeping a close eye on her. He passes by me on the bench and gives me a small nod, his eyes brighter than I've ever seen; I nod back, giving him a small smile as he continues tailing after his daughter.

I adjust the collar of my white oxford so that it sticks neatly above the edge of my argyle pale blue and tan vest. Crossing one leg over the other, careful not to wrinkle my beige trousers, I settle in to wait for that moment I live for, four times a year.

After several moments, I check my watch once more; popping open the intricately designed cover, I read the silver hands broadcasting the time.

2:22.

"So I take it you liked your gift?"

Startled, I snap the watch shut and glance up. He's grinning like a loon, watching me from above with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets.

"Yeah," I admit, "hasn't left my side since."

He chuckles warmly, "At least you won't ever be late anywhere."

I tuck the watch back into my trousers and stand up to hug him. Our hugs are never simple; they're hundreds of emotions wrapped up into one simple gesture. His navy cable knit sweater is settled on top of a deep red collared shirt, along with brown trousers, and of course, the whole outfit is completed by trainers. They're crimson today. He's also neatly shaven, with his sideburns intact.

We settle back down onto the bench once more.

"Don't you just love this weather Ian?" He inhales deeply and smiles, a look of serenity on his face.

"Yeah, it's just...perfect," I glance up and smile at the clear blue sky, enjoying the light breeze that has slowly picked up.

"You were right you know,"

He looks at me curiously, "Bout what exactly?"

I laugh at how pompous he makes himself sound, "'Bout me having a great year start to the New Year." I smile at the memories of New Year's Eve.

He raises an eyebrow, "How so?"

I stretch my arms luxuriously backwards and with a sigh, settle them behind the back of the bench,

"It was just perfect. Peaceful and fun with not a worry in the world weighing us down."

"Mum went out and bought some sparkling apple cider and we spent the night in. We did the same thing we do every year, only this time Katie got to be there. The telly was on most of the night playing the CWN yearly recap at 20:25 and that same ridiculous Sammie cartoon right after at about 22:55 that leads up to the big fireworks,"

"How different was it for Katie?" his face was a lit with curiosity as a devilish smile grew on his cheeks.

I could feel the heat on my cheeks growing; there was one part I had left out intentionally because of that.

"Well…" I cough, "It was really different for her. Normally, she would go to this huge ball or something their governor would throw for four hours with lots of dancing," he snickered at this for a moment, throwing me off for a moment before I continued, "but she told me that at the end of the night before the firework show, everyone got four golden raspberries; one for each season, and you would make four wishes during the last five minutes of the year. For every wish you made, you eat a raspberry."

I tugged on my ear once I noticed he'd stopped snickering. Now he was giving me THE eyebrow raise along with a complimentary knowing smirk.

"Hmm…Did you, I don't know, attempt to look for these raspberries?" his mirth was barely contained.  
Uncomfortable heat from my cheeks seemed to be moving to my ears as well…

"In the middle of Winter!?"

I just kept twitching my nose as my Dad continued to laugh 'til he had a stitch in his side and tears in his eyes.

"It's not that funny," I mumbled.

He snorted, "I think it's hilarious. C'mon Ian! You shoulda known that, your Mum only makes raspberry pie in the late Spring and Summer."

"Just for your information," I sniffed at him like a stubborn child, "I DID find some!"

Giving me a dubious stare, he creased his brow in concentration, "How in the stars did you manage to do that?"

Now I had the upper hand, "Wouldn't you like to know?" I crossed my arms over my chest and puffed out my chin, looking him dead in the eye. Mum had actually bought nearly a quarter of a case of the things last Summer and we just froze the leftovers.

"Hmm…" his tongue moved behind his teeth as he tried to come up with how I had gotten the raspberries, "You couldn't have bought them…Katie couldn't have possibly brought them with her…" he trailed off, lost within his complicated thoughts.

It was now my turn to smirk as he came up and threw out probably hundreds of ideas. John used to look like that whenever he would do his studies, but recently he seems to just go through the motions with no excitement whatsoever. I was thrown out of my conjecture by Dad's epiphany,

"You froze the one's your mum bought last Summer!" he exclaimed with a snap of his fingers.

"Yeah," I chuckled, "you came up with every possibility before you came up with that one."

"What? You could've cultivated your own private raspberry patch somewhere where they could survive Mother Nature's wrath…" his tone was just barely border lining teasing and serious consideration.

I only shook my head and leaned back against the bench. Bluebirds were flying into one of the small saplings further down the path. Twigs, leaves, and such in their beaks as they worked on their nest within the saplings narrow branches. We both enjoy our companionable silence for a moment before the sound of young children laughing reminds me of something.

"John and Donna's birthday wasn't too long ago."

"Oh? What did your Mum decide to plan out?" I hadn't even said a peep when he added, "Wait, wait…what did your Gran do?"

"Surprisingly, nothing. John…I would say hadn't because it still seems to be affecting him, but he's been under the weather for the past month. So Mum asked Gran if she could hold off on the usual huge celebration. We did something intimate at home for just Me, Mum, John, Donna, Gran, Gramp, and I invited Katie since John's gotten to know her pretty well and enjoys her company."

Unknowingly, I brought up a hand to rub my temple. John has been worrying me and Mum; he still hadn't gotten better after a month.

Dad quickly took note of that though, concern covering his normally cheerful features,  
"How sick has he been?"

"There are times where it's just like the flu, but then there are times where he can barely sit up without yelping in pain," I sigh. Shaking my head, I go on, "The doctor is convinced he just has some sort of virus and is overdramatizing it for the attention."

"Tell your Mum to get a second opinion, maybe you'll get a brute that actually cares about children." He said somberly with just a hint of a menacing tone laid underneath.

"I know," the quietness of my tone hanging in the air for a moment while we sat still.

When my doctor had misdiagnosed me with asthma and the flu instead of meningitis, my Dad had been well beyond livid. I was only six at the time, but I still remember having gone home from the doctor's office with my parents steaming and talking about other potential specialists, only to wake up in an ambulance a half hour later with my Mum stroking my hair and whispering soothing words. Oh but my Dad, his face had been draining of color and so, so scared. When he took my small hand so tight, I will never forget what he said,  
Don't leave us Ian, stay with me buddy. I can't stand to lose someone else...

Even now, I still can't manage to figure out what he means by, 'Lose someone else...'

He readjusts his posture from being tense to slightly more relaxed before crossing his ankle over his knee,

"So how's school been going?"

I slide my hands into my pockets and shrug,

"Alright I guess," I pause for a moment, "I think I might be interested in architecture."

His eyebrows rose up into his hairline, "Really? Good lad," he sniffed, "as long as you don't go into archaeology..."

I only laughed at his distaste for the career, he always said they were just people getting paid to stick their fingers and run a muck of the past.

"No, I've always found that boring. We just had to do a project on it for one of our courses. The professor was pretty impressed with it."

The pride beaming through his face made me a bit bashful,

"Of course he would be! You are my son after all."

I laughed at the pompous look of pride plastered on his impish features. Brilliant brown eyes creased at the edges from the countless amounts of times we've laughed together and the frosted tips of his chestnut fringe remind me of the years we've spent apart. He chuckled one last time, shaking his head before letting out a breathless sigh and closing his eyes, smiling into the warmth of the Spring sun.

Quiet observer as I am more often than not, I took a moment to study him. I still remember when I was seven, how he would throw me over his shoulder when he got home from work and call out,

'Hey Sweetheart, have you seen Ian?'

I would wriggle and laugh as he searched the entire den 'looking' for me while constantly poking his back to let him know where I was and after almost 5 minutes of his constant 'Searching' he would look over at me,

'Oi!', he would say, 'How'd you get up there!?'

Everyday for the next three years it was the same routine; even though he looked like a twig (to use Gran's terminology) he was remarkably strong. I would always be ready and waiting at the door, instantly grinning when I would hear his keys in the doorknob. Until, that one day, a day that still creeps along the outskirts of my mind, his keys didn't slide into the doorknob. It was almost another complete year before I got to see him again.

The sun now moved overhead of us. Several sparrows circle the small bush of lilies farther down the path before deciding against its location and move on.

"What have you been up to recently?" my question breaks our mutual silence.

He scratches one of his freckled cheeks, "Went to see the Norwegian New Year show, spent the holidays wandering around the Pacific United Kingdom...um, that's about it."

"Ho-"

"Wait, hold on...I also went down and spent some time on the shores of West Broad down in Dorset. Did you know they just finished filming something down there?" He interjects, eyes widened in surprise as he looks over his shoulder at me.

Same old habits it seems.  
"How was it? I've always seen the light show on the Net about the week after."

With a sigh he stretches out his back, "Alright I suppose. If they would've used another vantage angle of aiming the lights, it could've shown much more vividly," he sniffed.

"Now the Pacific UK was interesting; did you know they had wild horses there?"

We were taught in primary school that the UK's territory in the Pacific had many different species of wild, but domesticated, animals.

I nodded, "We learned that in third year."

Dad's only reaction was to sniff, "Interesting creatures they are. But West Broad in Dorset was my favorite," he hums happily.

"I got there late January, just after the first heavy snowfall," a sigh this time accompanied by a wondrous smile, "the cliffs were a goldenrod yellow against the white powdering of snow and clear aqua of the sea...Oh you would've loved it Ian."

West Broad had been in the news recently because of a supposed huge telly program that was being filmed in the small town.

"Did you get to see any celebrities?" I couldn't keep the bemusement out of my voice, my Dad had met some before but hadn't stayed on their best terms. He had almost gotten clocked by Charles Freeman after he kept stalking him in Venicé while we were on Summer holiday.

He raised his eyebrows at me, "Ian, do I look like a celebrity hunting type of person?"

I gave him a dubious glance, "I'm sure Mr. Freeman didn't see it that way," I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for his reply.

"For your information," he scoffed, "they had all packed up and left by then."

"Uh huh," I didn't believe him for squat.

"Honest! Only a few production members were still lingering about."

"Okay Dad," my tongue pressed behind my teeth as I tried not to grin.

He reached over and ruffled my hair, "Oi! Stop being cheeky," his smirk still let his humor show through.

I swatted away his arm and started on trying to undo the damage he had done to my 'perfect' disarray.

We sat in companionable silence for the next several minutes, enjoying the sunshine and sounds of Spring when Dad looked over at me with mirth bursting in his eyes.

"If you could make any complaint about anything in the natural world what would it be?"

Flabbergasted, I sat there for a moment trying to make sense of what he was asking me,

"Umm, sorry?"

He let out a puff of air before slouching over a bit and crossing his arms, he was already laughing at what he was about to say,

"Why can't fish have fur and cats have scales? or Horses hop while chickens gallop?"

"What!?" I burst out laughing, "I don't know, maybe because we wouldn't touch a scaly cat?"

A smile so wide stretched out across his face as I continued to laugh at the mere absurdity of the question till I got a stitch in my side.

"Go on," he nudged me, "What would you complain about?"

"Um," I wiped a tear from my eye as I tried to quit from laughing, "Why, why do giraffes have to be spotted while zebras are striped? I've always wanted to see a striped giraffe." I trail off smiling at him like a loon.

"Oh! I've got another one," his face turns dead serious, "Why do pears have to exist in the world? I mean, they're just evil wrapped in a horrific skin. It's like they're trying to be apples! Who on Earth eats pears!? They don't make jam, so that's another reason why they're useless; if it can't produce jam or marmalade, it is a horrible food item...Except bananas, that is the only exception I will make to that rule," he raises a finger pointed directly at me poking me for emphasis, "Pears. Are. Evil. Got it?"

I nod. I've always known that my Dad hated pears; that's why Mum never bought any. He honestly does live by that code; if it doesn't produce marmalade or jam, it's not worth eating. There always was, and always will be because of my attachment to the fruit, bananas in our house.

The alarm set on my wristwatch goes off giving us the 15 minute warning.

4:45

We sat on out warm granite bench, simply enjoying the last few minutes of our time together. Squeezing in idle talk on the weather or literature before my clock alerted me of five 'til. Rising up languidly off of our bench, we stretched out our arms and legs like always and turned to face one another.

He stepped forward and gave me a hug.

"'Til next time?" he asked pulling away slightly.

I nodded, "'til next time."

"You make sure your Mum has the best Birthday, understand?" He gave me his megawatt smile before patting my cheek once more and pulling away fully.

"Love you Ian," he called as we started walking our separate ways.

"Quite right too," I called back with a smile. He gave me a poignant look as he turned and continued down the path past he lily bush and saplings with growing nests in their branches. I turned and trudged down my normal route, hands in my trouser pockets and whistling Hungarian Dance No.5 as I made my way back home. My spirit high and a weight lifted off my chest.

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